


Outlawed

by elliegalaxies



Category: Amazingphil - Fandom, Danisnotonfire - Fandom, Phan, Video Blogging & YouTube RPF
Genre: M/M, Phan - Freeform, outlawed
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-30
Updated: 2013-12-30
Packaged: 2018-01-06 17:58:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 19,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1109871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elliegalaxies/pseuds/elliegalaxies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The year is 2066. All physical contact has been Outlawed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

> [PROLOGUE]
> 
> I remember the morning when I first realised how messed up the world is.  
> I’d let my eyes flutter open after waking from a pretty much dreamless sleep and had stayed there for a while, staring at the dim, grey ceiling of my bedroom. It was white when my family had moved here, but over time it’d faded to a horrid murky colour. I had wrinkled my nose slightly as I continued to stare at it, picking out all the imperfections. The slight bumps where the plaster wasn’t smooth before the paint was spread onto it and the slightly darker marks from where I’d put posters up a few years ago and the blu-tack had stained the paintwork. The posters had fallen down years ago and I’d thrown them away, but the stains still remained clear on the ceiling.  
> You couldn’t really see the imperfections unless you looked close. From it distance it was just the plain, boring ceiling of my bedroom, but when you looked at it long enough. close enough and in more detail you could see it. All the cracks, all the imperfections, how untidy it looked, how some place were more ruined than others and how some places were tainted with the stain of the blu-tack and just basically how crap it really was.  
> And I figured that that was kind of how the world is right now. Always had been though, I guess. Something goes wrong every damn year and us insignificant, tiny humans are expected to fix it. And it probably always will be that way unless our great alien overlords descend from the sky and come to rescue us from the monotonous perils of our everyday life. But , even after years of scientific research, that still seemed about as likely as pigs flying, so I really couldn’t see that happening.  
> But anyway, I got off topic, back to the ceiling.  
> As I lay there, staring up and examining the imperfections, I decided that I’d turn it into a metaphor for the world. Everything seems fine at a glance. The same, dull, boring thing that everyone knows is there and the same, dull, boring thing that we just see every day and take for granted because, at a glance, it looks perfect. Flawless. Nothing needed changing.  
> It’s only when you look close enough and have the time to sit down and admire it for what it really is - all the cracks, bumps and stains of imperfection - that you realise how messed up it all is.
> 
> The year is 2066. And one month, two weeks and three days ago, my sister was arrested.

I hate the way everyone looks at me now. When I walk past people on the street, they stop their conversation or talk in hushed tones as if they think I will hear their voice, suck out their soul and feast on it to keep me young. Even one month, two weeks and three days after it happened, they all still stare at me like I’m diseased.  
Do they think that I condone what my sister did or that I wanted her to do it? Because I didn’t. I didn’t ask her to, I didn’t tell her to, I didn’t even know she was doing it. But still people judge me and the rest of my family like it’s our fault.  
I love my sister. I miss her so much. What she did was wrong and was certainly against the law but blood is thicker than water and I promised her that I’d forgiven her a long time ago. My parents might’ve disowned her - they don’t even write to her anymore - but I still love her just as much as I did before she was a criminal. My mum throws away her letters without even reading them, but on Saturdays when she goes out to work and I’m still at home, I take them out and read them. She’s started addressing them to me now; she knows that I’m the only one who reads them because I’m the only one who ever replies, and she tells me stories about what she did and what it was like.  
I keep the letters under my pillow and I read them over and over again before I go to bed, just reliving the tales of Fiona Lester and her exciting life . Much more exciting than my own. I was always the sensible child. Mother said it was ‘endearing’. I was top of my class and hardly ever stepped a foot out of line. I didn’t like being shouted at, you see, so keeping my head down and just getting on with things was better than getting yelled at for doing something wrong.  
But Fiona was always getting into trouble. Mother would shout at her and use me as a weapon against her. ‘Why can’t you be more like Phil? Phil’s a good kid!’ Luckily, she never hated me for being the ‘good kid’. We were best friends.  
I missed her. And when I read her letters I missed her even more. She was my favourite person in the whole world and in a little over three minutes, I just watched her get taken away from me, my family and everyone else as well. She practically just disappeared off the face of the Earth - that’s what they do to anyone caught breaking the law - and all I have left is a few pieces of paper that she sends me every week .  
I love reading the letters though. She never told me about how exciting her life was until after she’d been caught so the letters were like a little insight into what she’d been getting up to. My favourite letter is the one about the hug.  
I’ve read it over and over again and I never tire of it. The way she describes the hug sounds so amazing. She says it’s ‘a sense of closeness like you’ve never felt before’. I love that bit. And I love the bit where she says it feels ‘warm’. Sometimes I feel like I want a hug. I get lonely a lot and Fiona says hugs help get rid of that feeling. She says that when you hug someone you really like you can’t help but smile and you can just totally relax into that person and feel ‘wanted’.  
But when I finish the letter and I get pulled back into reality. Here no matter how lonely you get, you can never just go and hug someone. You can’t even hug your mum or your best friend because you’d get arrested. I decided that a hug isn’t worth getting put into jail for.  
When I was three months old, the government decided that Earth was becoming overpopulated and after many lengthy debates they decreed that the reason was the amount of physical contact people were having. More and more people were having sex purely for gratification and ending up with children they didn’t want but didn’t want to get rid of. In the space of thirty years, the population had increased from just over 7 billion, to 9.6 billion. Many houses had been demolished and had been turned into tall blocks of flats instead to house more families. There were hardly any fields or open spaces anymore because the space was needed for more homes.  
So in 2049, the government decided to outlaw physical contact. Not just sex but all forms of physical contact. Their idea was that holding hands leads to hugging, hugging leads to kissing and kissing leads to sex, sex leads to babies and, ultimately, babies lead to overpopulation. So they decided to just cut it off at the source, getting rid of all physical contact and getting rid of the risk of having an unwanted baby.  
To keep the population going and to stop it dying out completely, the government allow couples who have been married for more than three years to have one child and one child only. The child is created in a lab through in vitro fertilisation to eliminate the possibility of twins.  
Not even married couples were allowed physical contact.  
Of course, the law bends sometimes. Parents are allowed to have physical contact with their children until their child’s thirteenth birthday, but after that, even a hug is illegal. It’s ridiculous really but that’s the law and we have to follow it otherwise we’ll get arrested.  
I haven’t been hugged in four years.

I sat down in my usual seat at the front of the classroom on the right hand side so that I could look out of the window. There wasn’t much to look at anymore though. There used to be a field there and, if you were lucky, you’d get to see animals like foxes and stuff just running around. But now they’re building a block of flats on there so the most exciting thing you get to look at is a group of builders laying some bricks or something and all the foxes just seemed to have gone.  
The teacher had given up telling me not to stare out of the window months ago. After telling me every day for fifty three consecutive days - I’d counted them - she’d got the hint that I wasn’t going to listen to her because I didn’t really care what she had to say. I got good grades in exams so she didn’t really have anything to worry about. She just let me get on with it nowadays so I’d spend my lessons either staring out of the window or making little doodles on my notebook.  
No one sat next to me. I used to sit next to a girl called Katheryn, but she let me call her Katy. She wasn’t very smart but I helped her a lot and her grades did improve thanks to being sat next to me. But when she found out what my sister had done, she moved to the only other available seat in the room to get away from me and she didn’t speak to me at lunchtime either. So I just gave up trying to talk to anyone really.  
I took my stuff out of my bag and placed the bag on the spare chair next to me before organising the things on my desk. I placed my notebook down first and then arranged my pens in size order, positioning them parallel to my notepad.  
I had two pens - a red one for the important things and a black one for the less important things - and a pencil. The pencil sat closest to my notebook because it was tallest, then the red pen was next, then the black pen.  
I stayed quiet, just staring down at the arrangement on my desk, wondering for a while how out of place it would look if I put the black pen next to the pencil or the red pen next to the notepad. And then I found myself wondering whether I’d developed a minor case of OCD. Well, at least it would give me something else to think about other than my pretty shitty life.  
I flipped my notepad open and picked up the pencil, starting to doodle before class started. I often found myself drawing flowers, trees and other nature-like things because I think I missed them. Not as much as I missed Fiona, but I definitely missed them.  
I always arrived early to class so I didn’t have to run into any trouble in the corridors. I mean, I kind of got bullied in class but they can’t really do much while the teacher’s there. But when she’s gone, they can do what they like, hence the reason I avoid corridors. But I suppose that’s one plus side to the no physical contact law, there aren’t many physical fights anymore.  
If you fight someone, you get put in prison for a month. And if you hug someone, you get put in prison for a year and a half.  
The class started to file into the room, laughing with each other and taking their seats around the room, waiting for the teacher to show up. She was usually pretty late though.  
The tall blonde guy, the one who all the girls like, sat down behind me and I immediately heard him talking to his friend about me. He always did this. He kept his voice quiet enough so that the whole class couldn’t hear, but loud enough for me to hear. I just zoned out and continued to focus on my drawing, ignoring whatever spiteful things that had to say about me and Fiona.  
After a few moments, something hit me on the back of the head. It was a small ball of paper. I knew it without even having to look down at it. The feeling was a familiar one and I’d probably been hit by a ball of paper from one of the popular kids’ notebooks at least once a day for just over a month. Sometimes even twice a day if they were feeling extra spiteful. I sighed and reluctantly turned my head to look over my shoulder, “Yes?”  
“I said, isn’t that right, Lester?”  
“My name’s Phil.” I muttered. PJ Liguori, the tall, brunette with the curly hair who all the girls liked had decided he was too good to call my by my first name one month, two weeks and three days ago when he found out about that had happened with my sister.  
“Isn’t that right, Lester?” He asked again, stressing the last word so hard that I swear I felt some saliva slip through his teeth and land on my cheek.  
I winced slightly and turned back around, subtly wiping my cheek on my shoulder to get rid of his DNA off my cheek. Maybe I could get him put in prison for that. His DNA touched me. Does that class as physical contact? I hoped so. “Well, I didn’t hear what you said.” I sighed, “But I’m sure there’s no point in arguing with you because once you get something into your head, it’s hard to beat it out because of the pure thickness of your skull.”  
He didn’t get a chance to reply because the teacher had already walked into the room and closed to door loudly behind her to signal her arrival. I didn’t even have to look up from the doodles in my notepad to know that it was her.  
“Alright guys!” She clapped her hands together a few times excitedly to get our attention and the class quietened down, “This is Dan.”  
I looked up from my notepad and watched her gesture towards a tall, tanned guy who stood at the front of the classroom with his hands tucked into his pockets. I glanced over at the empty seat next to me and up to the guy again, then back to the empty seat. Oh dear. He was going to have to sit next to me, wasn’t he? I hoped he didn’t know about Fiona and I hoped he was nice and I hoped he wasn’t going to bully me.  
“Introduce yourself to the class, Dan.” She smiled and looked over at him.  
“Uhh, I’m Dan.” He said quietly, keeping his hands firmly in his pocket and making no attempt to wave or anything.  
The whole class was quiet for a while as if they were expecting the mysterious tanned boy, Dan, to say something else, but he didn’t. He just stayed quiet until the teacher gestured towards the empty seat next to me as a signal for him to sit down.


	2. Chapter 2

My eyes involuntarily widened slightly as I started to panic. I quickly looked back down at my notepad, not wanting the tall, tanned guy, Dan, to know that I was staring at him. I didn’t want him to hate me if he was going to have to sit next to me for the rest of the year. Oh God. I wonder if he knew about Fiona. I’d have to ask him. Or maybe I just shouldn’t bring it up? If he doesn’t already know, he doesn’t have to, right? Besides, the people who he eventually made friends with would probably tell him anyway.  
I heard him almost throw himself down on the plastic chair next to mine and watched out of the corner of my eyes as he took his stuff out of his bag, placing it on the desk. I wrinkled my nose slightly as he carelessly dropped his notepad on the desk and took one pen out and placed the end in his mouth before chucking his bag underneath the desk. I felt it lean against my leg and quickly moved it out of the way so that the bag fell to the floor with a quiet, dull thump.  
I tried to focus on my drawing again but my hand was shaking slightly. I couldn’t believe I was so scared about making a good impression on this guy. I’d never really cared what people thought about me before, but I guess there was just something about him that made me want him to like me. Or maybe it was just the fact that I’d been lonely for so long, it might be nice to have a friend again. Probably the latter.  
“You draw that?” His voice wasn’t how I’d imagined it to be. I thought it was going to be quite deep, you know, stereotypically sexy. But it wasn’t really. It was no deeper than mine. And he sounded a lot more opulent than I’d expected. He was probably from down South, near London I suspected.  
I looked up at him, “Sorry?” I asked. Or at least that’s what I thought I’d asked. It came out as a stuttery noise, just me tripping over my words in an attempt to say a mixture between ‘Sorry?’, ‘Pardon?’ and ‘What?’  
He let out a single, breathy laugh, showing off his teeth as he leaned back in his chair and nodded towards my notepad again, “Did. You. Draw. That?” He asked, accentuating each word as though he thought I was stupid which, to be fair, he probably did due to the noise I just made when he asked me a question. Hardly anyone spoke to me anymore so it was a little unusual to be asked a question by someone other than a parent or a teacher.  
I nodded and looked back down at my drawing, ‘Did you draw that?’ He asks as I continued to scrawl my pencil across the page and draw what I had obviously been drawing. I resisted the urge to roll my eyes, still trying to make a good impression on Dan, and just nodded, “Y-yeah, I like to draw during class instead of actually listening like I probably should be doing.”  
He laughed again, but not like he’d done before. He was laughing with me this time, not at me, “I know that feeling.” He smiled, opening his notepad to a page with a few doodles on. They weren’t as good, or as detailed, as mine, but they were still pretty good. They weren’t drawings of nature, they were of people. As though he’d almost read my mind he shrugged and said, “They’re not as good as yours, but I like to draw. It beats the shit out of listening any day.”  
I hardly ever swore, only in extreme situations, so hearing people throw the words around like they were nothing was a little unnerving. My mum never swears and my dad only swears when he’s mad. Fiona used to swear sometimes when she was shouting at mum and dad, but she never swore around me. Even though I was way old enough to hear the words - and I heard them almost every day at school anyway - she still saw me as a little brother, so she never swore. “Yeah.” I said quietly, nodding in agreement. He’d phrased it poorly, but I guess he was right. Doodling in a notepad really did ‘beat the shit out of listening’.  
He grinned at me again and I got to see those white perfect teeth before he leaned back in the chair and looked over at our teacher. She’d started to teach the class not long ago and was talking about a classic novel we were all going to study called The Fault in Our Stars. It’s fifty four years old now.  
I’d read the novel before in a previous class and it was one of my favourites, even though the rest of the class seemed to think it was too ‘old-fashioned’ to be good. They constantly asked why we couldn’t just study a new book, but I was glad we didn’t have to. The old books are the best books.  
“You’ve picked a good spot here.” Dan said quietly, keeping his eyes on the teacher, but his comment was definitely directed at me, “You’re kind of out of the view of the teacher and you’ve got the window right next to you to stare out of. It’s pretty good.”  
I didn’t know what to say to him. What do you say when someone compliments your choice of seat? ‘Thank you’? ‘I’m glad you like it’? I settled with ‘thank you’ and muttered the two words quietly, looking up at him and studying his face.  
He was so much more tanned than I was. I wonder if he actually had friends to go outside with and to hang out with back where he used to live, he was a new student so I assumed he’d just moved here. I wonder if it’ll be easy for him to make friends here. Probably. He was talking to me now, but he’d ditch me in a heartbeat once he found out about Fiona.  
His eyes were a warm, dark brown, darker than his hair and the sunlight streaming in through the window gave them a sort of glint which looked more like a sparkle. If he looked at me, his warm eyes could probably thaw the icy blue of my own. His nose was turned up the slightest bit at the end to create a minor ski slope effect. It was pretty much perfectly shaped and made me feel a little insecure about my own nose and my own looks. I furrowed my brow the tiniest amount and just kept looking at him.  
Dan was very handsome. The kind of handsome that I envied. The kind of handsome that PJ Liguori was and that’s why all the girls liked him. I wonder if all the girls liked Dan too. I thought about just glancing around the classroom to see which girls were looking at him, but decided against it.  
His chocolate brown eyes focused on the teacher as she talked. Even though he’d said he prefered drawing to listening, he was probably trying to make a good impression on his first day.  
I wonder if he was nervous. He came across as naturally outgoing and fairly charming. There isn’t any way he could be nervous, right? Probably not.  
It was only when he started to grin again that I realised I was still staring at him and quickly looked down at my notepad. I felt the sudden urge to apologise. What for though? ‘Sorry for looking at you, I happen to think you’re rather attractive, the kind of attractive I want to be and I envy your looks’? No, that would be ridiculous. I felt my cheeks heat up and knew they’d be turning an angry red colour. I dropped my head a little so that my hair fell across my cheeks to hopefully cover the redness and hide it from Dan.  
“You don’t have to stare.” He said quietly, not whispering, but keeping his voice low so that only I could hear it, “Just ask me for a picture. I’ll even pose for you.” He joked before pouting slightly like a model.  
My cheeks burned furiously and I found myself muttering a quiet apology, “I-I’m sorry, I wasn’t staring or anything weird like that, I was just... studying you.”  
He raised an eyebrow and turned his head to look at me, tapping his pen on his notepad that sat in front of him, “Studying me?” He asked.  
I realised how stupid it sounded when he questioned it and I just shook my head, “I don’t know, I’m sorry. That sounded better in my head. I don’t know, I’m sorry.”  
“You already said that part.” He winked, laughing again and turning to look at the teacher again.  
He was so smooth and charming and I felt so pathetic next to him. He was charismatic and outgoing and it seemed as though conversation just came easily to him. Whereas me, on the other hand, was a total loser. I struggled to talk, especially in situations like this where I had to talk to new people, and I was awkward and nervous and shy.  
I wanted to hate him. I wanted to hate his devilishly good looks and his natural charm. And I wanted to hate the way his eyes glinted in the light and the way he smiled slightly to himself when the teacher made a joke and no one laughed. I wanted to hate how he didn’t blush or even stutter when he was asked a question in front of the class and I wanted to hate how he found talking to me so easy. But, the thing I wanted to hate the most, was the fact that he was completely unaware of what happened with Fiona and he’d probably stop talking to me completely when he found out.  
But I couldn’t. Because I liked him. I liked his looks and his charm and the way his eyes glinted in the light, the way he smiled to himself and the way he could speak to easily to me and the class. And I liked that, for once, one person didn’t judge me based on what my sister did.  
I’m nothing like her. I wouldn’t dare even think about doing what she did. I’m scared of the authorities and I’m scared of the idea of being put in jail and I’m scared of losing my family so I’d never do what she did.  
“What’s your name then?” He asked, turning to me and I quickly looked away from him so that he didn’t think I was still staring. But the smile that tugged at his lips let me know that he had caught me ‘studying him’ again.  
I sighed slightly and stared down at my notepad, doodling little patterns all over the page, “Phil.” I said quietly. I debated whether or not to give him a fake last name, but he’d probably find out sooner or later anyway who I was, “Phil Lester.”  
Instead of just quickly turning away and ignoring me, he smiled and nodded once. Perhaps he didn’t know about Fiona. “I’m Dan Howell.”  
“Well, it’s nice to meet you, Dan Howell.” I looked up at him, still confused as to why he hadn’t raised his hand and asked to move to the other side of the classroom away from me.  
“It’s nice to meet you too, Phil Lester.” His slight smile broke into a grin, showing his teeth again, “I mean, I’d shake your hand, but it’s kind of against the law.”  
I laughed, “Yeah, I guess so.” I wanted to start complaining to him and ranting to him about how stupid the laws were, but decided against it. If the teacher overheard, she’d lecture me and the rest of the class on the importance of these laws.  
“Okay guys, so I’m gonna let you go for lunch a little early today because I need to sort out a mock exam for the next class.” The teacher announced, clapping her hands together and smiling.  
Before she’d even finished her sentence, the class had started to pack their things away and talk to each other, getting ready to leave. I got my stuff ready to go and prepared myself for Dan to go off with someone else in the class.  
But he didn’t.  
“Mind if I hang out with you?” He asked, smiling at me with that perfect, wide grin.  
I nodded, “Yeah. Wait, I mean.. No, I don’t mind, yeah you can hang out with me.” Well done, Phil.  
“Well, I’ve gotta go and talk to the head first ‘cause I’m a new student and stuff.” He rolled his eyes and sighed exasperatedly, before laughing a little and taking his phone from his pocket, “If I give you my number, will you text me your number so I can call you when I’m done in there?”  
I nodded and opened my notepad to the first clean page. He spoke quietly and, as he dictated his phone number to me, I wrote it down in the red pen.


	3. Chapter 3

Dan had made his way out of the classroom not long ago, gracefully making his way through the crowd of people. You’d think that someone so tall would be perpetually clumsy but, as far as I could tell, he really wasn’t. He was tall and attractive and agile.  
When I was sure that the rest of the class had already left, I swung my bag over my shoulder and attempted to make my way out of the room. I thought I’d made it without having to talk to the teacher until a quiet voice came from behind me. “Uhh, Phil?”  
I resisted the urge to groan and turned around to look at her but decided not to open my mouth and talk. Staying quiet was much easier and kept me out of trouble most of the time. I just looked at her, almost as though I was giving her permission to talk. Well, at least that’s what it felt like. Obviously she was actually the one in charge because at the click of her fingers she could get me kicked out of the school.  
After an awkward silence, she realised that I wasn’t going to say anything and she cleared her throat, standing up from behind her desk. She brushed the front of her skirt down with her hands to smooth it out and stood up straight. “I’m going to ask you something now, but honestly, you can say no if you want or if you don’t feel comfortable with doing it. I mean, I know you don’t have any friends and that social interaction doesn’t come easily to you anymore, but I need you to do me a favour.”  
Her voice sounded monotonous, boring and she didn’t stumble over her words once. it was like she’d been practicing the speech in her head before giving it to me. Damn teachers. They always have time to rehearse what they’re going to say because no one ever calls on them when they’re not concentrating or when the don’t know the answer or something. Teachers never have to worry about tripping over their words and embarrassing themselves because, Hell, they’re teachers.  
“I’ve noticed that the new student, Mr. Howell, is in a lot of your classes.” She smiled and took a step towards me, so I took a step back in case she wanted to get past me, but she didn’t. She probably just wanted to get closer to me so that she didn’t have to shout her request across the classroom. “So I was wondering if you’d... how do I phrase this?” She mused, perching on the edge of her desk and crossing her legs, “Buddy up with him.”  
‘Buddy up’? She actually paused and gave herself thinking time to come up with the phrase ‘buddy up’? I had to try my hardest not to roll my eyes as I replied to her, “Well, it might be a little difficult seems as how people seem to make a snap judgment about me whenever they find out about Fiona.” I kept my voice quiet and tapped my foot on the floor.  
She just frowned at me, “Now that’s not true, Philip and you know it.” Shows what she knew. But her voice was quite firm and she sounded a bit annoyed actually. I’d never really heard her annoyed before but she was probably just worried about Dan’s parents complaining at her if she didn’t find him someone to hang out with. Not that he couldn’t make friends of his own. he was attractive and outgoing and could have anyone fall at his feet in a matter of seconds if he wanted them too. He wouldn’t want to ‘buddy up’ with me.  
Then again, he did give me his number and he did ask if he could hang out with me this lunchtime. Maybe he wouldn’t care about Fiona. He seemed nice maybe he, unlike the majority of simple minded idiots in my school, would be able to see that it actually wasn’t my fault.  
Keeping my mouth shut, I just nodded. I didn’t want to argue with her and have her decide that someone else can ‘buddy up’ with Dan and look after him so I agreed to her request. Maybe it wouldn’t be too bad having someone around.  
I’d kind of gotten used to the loneliness, but it still hurt sometimes. I feel trapped. I’m surrounded by people, hundreds of them, even thousands of them in some cases and I’m alone. No one wants to talk to me, no one wants to even look at me and I’m sick of the loneliness.  
I like being alone. I like reading alone and writing alone and drinking coffee alone. I like eating alone and travelling alone and watching movies alone. I like cleaning alone and cooking alone and going for walks alone. But I don’t like being lonely.  
And right now, surrounded by people who hate me or people who don’t know me, but hate me anyway, I’m not just alone. I’m lonely.  
I agreed to the teacher’s request to ‘buddy up’ with Dan and quickly made my way out of the room, afraid that if I didn’t, I’d collapse on the floor there and then as the feeling of total and utter isolation washed over me like a tsunami and crushed me.  
The corridors were quieter now and most people had already gone to the lunch hall to get the food to keep them going to the last lesson of the day. A few people sat in the corridors to eat the sandwiches they’d prepared that morning to avoid the queue in the canteen for food. They didn’t look up at me as I walked past them and the intense feeling of loneliness returned.  
I scurried past them, keeping my head down to avoid making eye contact with them. I didn’t want to get hit by another ball of paper from their notebooks.  
Oh God. That reminded me. I needed to text Dan my number.  
As I walked along, I unzipped my messenger bag to get the notepad out with Dan’s number scrawled onto it. Meetings with the headteacher never usually lasted very long because he was always too busy with something else to really care about new students. I felt a little guilty for not having texted him sooner, but I’d do it as soon as I managed to get my notebook out of my bag.  
Just as I’d managed to get the damn thing free and pulled it out of my bag, my feet collided with something on the floor and I fell forward, throwing my hands out in front of me in preparation to hit the laminate flooring.  
The notebook fell out of my grasp as my palms hit the wood on the floor and I groaned quietly in pain. I heard a guy snigger to my left which started a few other little titters from the people sat in the corridor eating. I glanced over my shoulder and saw the brown leather of a satchel sitting on the floor, which was probably what I tripped on.  
I could’ve sworn it wasn’t there before I fell. And then I realised what had happened. In the brief moment that I’d let my guard down and busied myself doing something other than keeping a defensive bubble around myself, the guy to my left - the one who’d laughed first - had kicked his satchel in my path to trip me up.  
I felt my cheeks start to heat up at the laughter became louder, but I had no motivation to get up off the floor.  
What was the point anymore?  
I felt as though I was about to cry. I hadn’t cried in so long, but right here, in the middle of the corridor on my hands and knees from where I’d just fallen over in front of a group of bullies, I felt like I was going to shamelessly burst into tears and just sit there for a while, sobbing.  
My palms were beginning to sting now and I lifted my head slightly to possibly get a glimpse of just how many people were laughing at me. But something was blocking my way. A pair of skinny legs covered by the material of the school uniform trousers the boys were forced to wear. Oh God. I prayed it wasn’t PJ Liguori or any of his other stupid little mates who had come to laugh at me.  
I watched as whoever it was dropped to his knees so his eyes were level with my own. He smiled at me and showed his perfect teeth off to me again before leaning over to my right and collecting the odd bits of paper and a few pens that had fallen from my messenger bag when I fell.  
“I thought you were gonna call me?” He asked, holding my notebook out to me with the hand that wasn’t collecting the pens and stuff. I wasn’t sure how far I’d thrown it down the corridor when I fell, but it was nice of him to get it for me.  
I took it from him and quickly shoved it back into my bag. Is it possible to develop hatred for an inanimate object? Because I think I was starting to hate that stupid notebook. And I was probably starting to hate the stupid satchel that I tripped on. Although, it probably wasn’t fair to hate the satchel. It was the popular guy’s fault for pushing it underneath my feet, not the satchel’s fault for being pushed.  
I suppose I could forgive the satchel. But the notebook? That’s a different story. If I wasn’t looking for it in my bag as I walked along, I never would’ve fallen over. God, if only I could just blame all my problems in life on that damn notebook.  
“Text.” I corrected him, finally drawing my eyes back up to meet his own, “We agreed that I was going to text you my number.”  
Dan clicked his tongue against his teeth to produce a tutting sound, “It’s basically the same thing, Phil.” He tried to sound annoyed, but the smile that was plastered over his face let me know that he wasn’t even remotely annoyed with me.  
But for some stupid reason, I felt the need to desperately apologise to him. A pink tinge fell across my cheeks and I shrugged, deciding to start my apology now, “I-I’m sorry the teacher made me stay behind to talk to her and then when she was finished I was gonna go find somewhere to sit then I was gonna text you, but then I was walking down here and I tripped and I’m sorry, Dan.”  
He laughed. I liked his laugh. It was almost sing-songy and musical, “You don’t have to apologise Phil.”  
Without thinking, I managed to blurt out a quick ‘Sorry’ and he laughed again, shaking his head before standing up.  
I stood up too, quickly dusting the dirt off the knees of my black trousers so, hopefully, my mum wouldn’t have to wash them again tonight.  
“I saw what that guy did to you.” Dan muttered, “What a dick move. You don’t deserve that.”  
I sighed a little and just shrugged. I think that comment just confirmed the fact that Dan didn’t know anything about Fiona. If he knew, he’d probably understand why that popular guy did that to me and he’d probably go along with their little mind games and start bullying me too.  
It was quite scary how little trust I had in everyone, even when they were being nice to me. So far, Dan had done nothing to wrong me, yet I just assumed that he’d hate me forever if he found out about my sister and that he’d stop talking to me if someone better came along.  
In fact, I was quite surprised that he’d stuck around for as long as he had done. Maybe the whole ‘buddy up’ thing was discussed with him too? You know, like, he gets someone to show him round the school and I get a friend for a couple of weeks until he’d settled in and found better people to spend time with.  
Hm. Sounded about right.  
“I dunno. I guess I kinda deserved it.” I kept my voice quiet so that no one else in the corridor could hear and looked up at him so that our eyes met again.  
Dan shook his head and smiled, “Don’t be silly, Phil. No one deserves that kind of treatment.” He handed the pens back to me and I felt the tip of his finger brush against mine. I pulled my hand away quickly, being very aware of the fact that we were surrounded by people who could easily report us if they thought that anything was going on.  
Maybe he didn’t touch me and it was all in my mind, but I swear I felt his finger graze mine. I swear I did.  
And I didn’t stop thinking about it for the rest of the day.


	4. Chapter 4

Fiona,  
Your last letter was so interesting, thank you for writing to me again. You have no idea how lonely the house feels without you.   
School is going okay, thanks for asking. My grades are good, even though I concentrate very little. I’m doing the best in English, of course. It’s my favourite. But everyone is still being horrible to me. Please don't feel guilty about it, Fi, it's not your fault that people are such close minded idiots. I can't wait to get out of here. It's like a living Hell. I'm sure you remember it from your school days. When I’m done with college, I’m off to uni. I’ll come closer to you, I think. I hate it here.  
Reading your letters just makes me realise how boring my life is. I get up, go to school, come home and sleep. But you?! You've been everywhere and done everything.  
Reading them just gives me a little insight into your exciting life and I love it and I want to thank you for sharing it with me.  
I heard mum talking to her friend the other day. She said that she might come and visit you in a couple of months! That's cool, right? I mean, I know you don't get on with her incredibly well, but it can't hurt to try and build your relationship up again.  
Dad wasn't too keen on the idea, but thats okay. Mum will be able to persuade him to come see you. Maybe they'll let me come too? I'm nearly 18 now so if they don't, I'll come visit you the day of my birthday, I promise.   
And I'll come visit you every week after that. I'll bring you nice food and stuff, I've been learning to cook! I can make Victoria Sponge! From scratch! How cool is that? I'll be a famous chef before you know it! Haha.  
I’m joking, of course. I’m still not a great cook. I often burn whatever I try to make. But it’s alright, I’ll get better with practice.

I have something else I tell you, Fi. There's a new guy in school. He only came here a week or so ago, but he sits next to me in English class. And he likes The Fault in Our Stars! Everyone in English thinks its boring and old, but Dan really appreciates it, like I do.  
Oh, that's his name, by the way. Dan. Dan Howell. He's really nice. He's tall and tanned and he's got really nice eyes. I think I admire him so much because I envy his looks and his natural charm and charisma.  
He sits with me at lunch and whenever people try to bully me, he just frowns at them and they go away. I feel like he's really looking after me and it's nice.  
I don't know if he knows about you yet, Fi, and - don't take this the wrong way - but I'm not planning on telling him about you either. Whenever people find out about you, they start to ignore me and I like having a friend.  
Well, I think he's my friend. I'd like him to be. He gave me his phone number and he texts me a lot and he actually talks to me in front of people instead I pretending not to know me. I think he wants to start hanging out with me outside of school too, like going to each others houses and stuff. That’s cool, right? I haven’t been over to a friend’s house in ages!  
I've missed having friends.  
We walk home from school together and he always makes me laugh by telling these silly little jokes he used to tell his friends back where he used to live.  
I like him a lot.

I have a secret. Promise you won't tell mum or dad or anyone? I really don't want to get in trouble, but I trust you not to tell anyone because you’re like me best friend.  
So please keep this letter well hidden.  
I don’t want anyone to find it.  
Okay?  
I fell over in the corridor the other day - well, I was tripped by some stupid moron - and when he was giving me my stuff back, I think he touched my hand! It was so cool and it felt all tingly and weird. Is it supposed to be like that?  
I thought I was imagining it at first, but he's done it more since then. When we're walking home together, he'll accidentally brush his fingers against mine or something and it feels really strange.  
I reread your letter about holding hands last night. And I think I want to hold hands with Dan.

Miss you  
\- Phil


	5. Chapter 5

When I woke up the next morning, I didn’t lay in bed long enough to admire the imperfect ceiling and compare it to the world as I usually did nowadays. I got out pretty much as soon as I opened my eyes and got my sight back from the night’s sleep. I stretched my arms out above my head, letting them drop to my sides again before I stumbled into the bathroom, still half asleep.   
I pushed the catch and made sure the door was locked before turning the shower on. The bathroom pretty much immediately started to steam up as the heat of the water cascaded out of the shower head. When the bathroom mirror steamed up, you could see where Fiona had drew little love hearts on it with her finger before she’d been taken away. Whenever the bathroom steamed up, she always drew little shapes on the windows and the mirrors in the condensation that had fallen there.  
Hearts were her favourite thing to draw. She was very loving.  
They were in all sorts of different sizes and were barely visible now thanks to my mother’s obsessive cleaning habits. I don’t think she cleaned the mirror as much as she cleaned the rest of the house though. Secretly, I think she liked the hearts too. I liked them and I hoped that one day they wouldn’t disappear and they’d stay there forever as a reminder of my sister and her crazy, exciting life.   
I slipped my pyjamas off before stepping underneath the spray of the water.  
The water immediately felt relaxing and it ran down my hair, dripping off the tips of my fringe. I opened my eyes and watched it. I wish that the memories and the stuff I kept locked up in my head just washed out this easily. Thousands of horrific, embarrassing memories just dripping from my brain and circling the plug hole as they washed away forever. Every horrific thing that I’d ever done in my whole life, the things the bullies said about me and about Fiona and the way she looked at me with tears in her eyes when she mouthed ‘I’m sorry’ as they pushed her into the back of the police van just all washing away down the plug.  
But that’s not how things work and it’s not easy to get rid of memories. It’s easy to forget something good that happens, a compliment about your hair or about how good your school work is. But it’s not easy to forget an offhand remark from someone about how they don’t like you or how they think you’re pathetic for even existing.  
Things would be so much easier if you could wash away bad memories and bad thoughts like you could wash away dirt from your skin or shampoo from your hair.  
I liked being in the shower. It was the only time I really got to myself away from bullies or prying parents. It gave me time to think, I guess. And I could escape from the bad things when I tried hard enough to blank them from my memory for the ten minutes I was in the shower.  
I used the good shampoo, the one my mum always uses when she’s going out somewhere posh with her friends, and the ‘Lynx’ shower gel of my dad’s before I got out and wrapped a towel around my waist. I only glanced briefly over at the mirror to catch a glimpse of the faded love hearts filled with dots and stripes and all sorts of different patterns as I opened the bathroom window to let the steam out of the room.  
It was cold outside the bathroom and walking down the hallway to my bedroom was always a horrible experience. The wind caught my torso where water droplets were still running down and, even in Summer, it felt so much colder than it actually was. By the time I reached my room, I was shivering slightly in a desperate attempt to regain the heat I’d just lost due to the short walk down the hall.  
I smelled strange.   
The Lynx shower gel felt almost too ‘manly’ for me. But I picked out my clothes and got dressed and ready for school. I took the boring uniform we were all forced to wear, a white shirt, a pair of black trousers, a black blazer with the school crest on and a tie to match, and pulled it on, making sure my tie was straight and done properly.  
The ‘cool’ people didn’t bother with that. They didn’t do their top button up and left their tie hanging half way down their chest. A lot of them didn’t even bother wearing their blazers anymore. Apparently, it was cool to look scruffy.  
My mum had already make breakfast and when I got downstairs, she offered me a bowl of porridge with a big red swirl in the middle. Probably jam or something. I wasn’t keen on it and politely refused the mush, deciding to go with a simple packet of Pop Tarts instead. The Hot Fudge Sundae ones. They were my favourites.  
I slipped them into the toaster, ignoring the scowl I received from my mum and waited quietly for them to heat up.  
“Did Fiona write?” My mum asked. It took me by surprise as she usually always threw the letters from her away before she’d even opened them up the read them. I’d got some time alone the other day and took the letter out of the bin, writing a reply to her and sending it away in the post.  
I just looked at her and shrugged. I don’t think she knew about my writing habits. I kept them a secret from her because I knew she’d disapprove. If I spoke, my voice would end up cracking or something and give away the fact that I was lying to her.  
She nodded and ate the porridge she’d made for herself. My dad was probably at work now so it was just us in the house. “I was thinking of going to see her soon.”  
I knew that. I’d heard her talking. But I just nodded, “Sounds like a good idea.” I managed to keep my voice from cracking as I spoke, “I bet she misses you.”  
“Well, I am her mum after all.” She smiled slightly, “I promised to love her no matter what she did. And the same goes for you, Phil. No matter what you do, you’ll always be my son, okay?”  
The Pop Tarts jumped out of the toaster and saved me from having to think of a reply and I left the house before she could say anything more. My mind immediately shot to a hundred little things she could be referring to.  
Perhaps she’d seen me with Dan and just assumed that something was going on between us? Did she think I was gay? I’m pretty sure I wasn’t. I mean, I admired Dan for being attractive - he was gorgeous - and since the day we first met, I’ve very much envied his looks. His personality seemed to fit them too. Very often you’ll find that attractive people know they’re attractive and their personality reflects that. They act poisonous, rude and stuck-up. But Dan wasn’t like that. he was funny and charming and even if he did know he was attractive, he didn’t show it. He was incredibly modest.  
But I wasn’t gay. Not a chance.  
What if she’d seen my letter though? She couldn’t have! I’d sent it out yesterday, the day I wrote it and I’d made sure that no one would be able to find it. It was secret and for Fiona’s eyes only. She was the only person who was ever going to read it so there wasn’t even a small chance that my mum could’ve found the letter and read it herself.  
Besides, if that was the case, she wouldn’t be so understanding about it. If she’d have known that I wanted to hold hands with Dan, she wouldn’t let me hear the end of it. She’d keep me away from school, from Dan, for everyone until I finally ‘saw sense’ and changed my mind.  
I think that’s why Fiona never told her about what she was doing. Mum would’ve freaked out and probably disowned her before she even got arrested.  
The journey to school was dull and I’d left my iPod at home so I didn’t even have music to attempt to quell the thoughts that were flooding my head. My feet slammed rhythmically against the pavement and occasionally a car drove past, drowning the sound out, but it always returned. The steady, monotonous beat.  
My Pop Tarts were good though. By the time I got round to eating the second one, it had gone pretty cold, but I wasn’t about to waste a decent Hot Fudge Sundae Pop Tart.  
I wondered if Dan liked Pop Tarts.  
I decided that if he ever visited my house I’d offer him some and see how he reacted. I mean, that’s not exactly an interesting conversation to have with someone and whenever I was around Dan I felt like I was always on edge and I was constantly trying to impress him with my minimal conversational skills.  
It was times like these when I wished that I had enough good music to keep me entertained for the twenty minute walk to school. Walking home was okay because I had Dan to talk to, but when going to school, he got his mum to take him on her way to work.  
I used to have lots of good music on my iPod when Fiona was around to give recommendations and help download the stuff. My parents didn’t keep up-to-date with technology like Fiona did and since she hadn’t been around I hadn’t had anyone around to help me get music illegally. And I couldn’t afford to buy a brand new download every week and I wouldn’t know any good ones to buy anyway, so I was left with the same few tracks that’d I’d listened to hundreds of times before. I stopped listening to them not long ago though. I wanted something new. But I just didn’t know where to go to find it.  
It seemed like I was lost.  
Mentally, I couldn’t quite put things together and I was lost. I didn’t know where I was going and where I’d come from seemed to be a bit of a blur. But I’d know that for a while. I’d known that things weren’t quite right and I couldn’t make friends or even find someone who wanted to talk to me and that the only person I really had left was my sister and she was shoved in some dirty jail on the other side of town. I’d know all that. But now I was lost musically too and I held no interest in the songs I used to love so much.  
It was sad.

When I got to school, I went into my English room and over to the desk where I’d been sat for God knows how long. But when I was about to take my seat by the window, I noticed a tanned boy, grinning up at me as he sat in my seat, “Hope you don’t mind.” He said, his voice as smooth as ever, “I think I’d prefer sitting by the window.”  
I just nodded and dropped down in my new seat next to him. Damn those good looks paired with that natural charm. And his smile! He could probably hit me with a car and as long as he smiled at me afterwards, I’d probably end up thanking him.  
“Are you alright? You can have your seat back, if you want?” He offered when I didn’t respond to him. His voice didn’t hold the same confidence as it usually did. He spoke a little quieter this time and his voice was laced with what I assume was worry. Worry? Why would he be worried about me?  
I shook my head, biting my lip to hold back a smile. He cared about me! Someone actually cared enough about enough to ask me if I was okay! And he wasn’t a teacher or a family member or someone trying to tease me either! He genuinely cared about my feelings and my emotions. He cared about me! I turned to look at him and his brow was still furrowed in worry.  
I didn’t know what to say to him. I just couldn’t get over it. My mind was filled with all sorts of different things I could’ve said or done and they were spinning round and round so fast that I kept forgetting what they were and I had no idea what a sensible thing to say would be.  
So I just blurted out the first thing that came to mind.  
“Do you like Pop Tarts?”


	6. Chapter 6

He raised a questioning eyebrow and just looked at me for a few seconds before he burst into a fit of laughter. And it wasn’t just a chuckle and a shake of the head, it was real laughter. The kind of laugh you only do around people that you trust because you know they’ll just laugh along with you instead of laugh at you.  
And that’s what I did. I laughed with him.  
His laughter was infectious. The kind that could make you laugh even when you felt sad or when you didn’t even find something funny. As long as he was laughing, joining him just felt right.  
“Pop Tarts?” He asked eventually after his laughter had calmed down. He still chuckled slightly as he wiped the beginnings of a tear from under his eye, “You had me all worried for Pop Tarts? I thought I’d upset you or something and you just wanted to ask me about Pop Tarts?”  
I’d stopped laughing too and my cheeks had flushed in embarrassment. It was pretty ridiculous now that I thought about it. I just didn’t really fancy pouring my heart out about how lost I felt to a guy I’d only met a few weeks ago. Besides, I hadn’t even told him about what had gone on in my life yet and I didn’t really want to. He was my only friend and there was no way on this Earth that I was ever going to let myself lose him over something as stupid as my sister’s past.  
“Pop Tarts?” He asked again, his eyebrow raised again like before, “That’s all? Pop Tarts?”  
I just looked back at him, not knowing what to say. I couldn’t express my gratitude for the fact that he cared about me without sounding like a total loser, so I just nodded, “Yeah, Pop Tarts.” My voice came out quieter than I’d originally planned and I felt ridiculously nervous, “The hot fudge sundae ones are my favourites. I had some for breakfast this morning.” Yeah, keep going, Phil. Keep chatting rubbish to a guy you actually really admire, that’ll get him to like you and think you’re not a loser.  
He chuckled again and leaned back in his/my chair, “I’ve never had those ones. The berry ones are pretty good, I guess. But I’m not a big fan.”  
“Ah, that’s only because you haven’t had a fudge sundae one.” I nodded as I took my notepad out of my bag and placed it down on the desk, arranging my pens next to it like I always do. It wouldn’t feel right if they were out of place so, even though it was ‘weird’ to care about the order of pens, I arranged them anyway, just like I did on the first day I met Dan.   
It was evident from the way he carelessly dropped his only pen onto the table, like he’d done the first day we met, that Dan didn’t have the same problem as I did. “Well, maybe I’ll get some on the way home. We walk past that shop, right? We’ll get some from there.”  
“Tonight?”  
“Yeah.”  
“Together?”  
He laughed again, “Yeah, Phil. Together.”  
I just looked at him. Did he mean he wanted to see me outside of school? Well, he mentioned it not long ago but I didn’t think he was actually going to go through with it. I thought it was just something he said without thinking and maybe regretted it afterwards because he realised that having the school outcast hang out with him would basically be social suicide and he’d never be able to make another friend. But... he was serious? “Are you sure?” I asked.  
He just shook his head, “You’re ridiculous, Phil.” I would’ve taken offense, but he was still laughing so I knew he wasn’t saying it with malicious intent. Besides, even if he was being serious, he was probably right. “I was asking you to come to my house and have Pop Tarts with me, I wasn’t asking you to have sex with me.”  
I winced slightly at the word. Sex. It didn’t even sound right. It was such a strange word. It’d practically become a ‘swear word’ now. No one ever talked about it in public. It was only ever mentioned in hushed tones between close friends who laughed and joked about it. It could be found in books and such, but it was very watered down. No details. No one ever talked about it seriously and if anyone was even daring enough to have sex, they’d definitely be locked up for life.  
I swallowed hard and looked down at my notepad, tapping my pen against it. I wasn’t even one hundred percent sure what sex was and what it involved. No one had ever talked about it with me and it’s been illegal for as long as I’ve been alive.  
Did Dan know what sex was?   
He clearly sensed I was uncomfortable and quickly changed the subject back to Pop Tarts. He asked me about the flavours again and I answered automatically, but my mind was busying itself with the thought of physical contact and sex.  
I didn’t dare glance up from the notepad to see if anyone else had heard his outburst because, if they had, they’d probably be laughing at me for it. They’d be laughing at him as well. Dan didn’t deserve to be laughed at. Especially not by people in this stupid classroom. They were all inferior to him. At least they were in my eyes anyway. Almost everyone was inferior to Dan.  
He was this charming, charismatic, amazing character and everyone else just seemed dull. They went about their lives, writing their notes for class, getting the grades they needed, eating their lunch and then going home, doing a bit more work then off to bed! And the same thing happened the next day.  
The thing with Dan was that he was different. He probably did everything ‘normal’ people did, just went about his daily life like everyone else, but it was different. He did everything with this sort of care-free tone. Obviously he did care because he worked hard in class and he ended up with the good grades like everyone else. But he was funny, smart, outgoing and even though his life was just as mundane as mine or anyone else’s for that matter, it seemed more interesting.  
He made my life more interesting too.  
I think I admired that the most about him. And I didn’t want people laughing at him for it because I didn’t want him to go away. He was my friend.  
But I also didn’t want him making comments about ‘sex’ all the time. I didn’t understand it and I wouldn’t be able to join in. It would isolate me from him.  
When the teacher began to teach, flicking through pages of The Fault in Our Stars, I was still thinking about it. If Dan knew what it was, would he tell me? Or would he just keep it to himself because he was afraid of getting in trouble? He’d tell me, surely. If I asked nicely and casually while we were waiting for the Pop Tarts to heat up.  
But how on Earth are you supposed to bring that up in conversation? Are you supposed to just blurt it out like ‘What’s sex?’ Are you supposed to just ease into it like ‘Well, I’ve never really been talked to about it so I was wondering it...’  
And what if his parents were home? Did he have a brother or a sister? What if they heard us talking about it and reported us or something? We wouldn’t get put in prison, but we’d definitely get a warning and probably be suspended from school for a week or so.  
By the end of the lesson, the thought was beginning to annoy me and I still hadn’t decided on a way to bring it up in conversation.  
But I had decided that, if we were alone, I was definitely going to ask him tonight.

The shopkeeper shot me a dirty look as I walked in, but he does every time. Especially when I’m with my mother. He looks at her with the whole ‘you’re-a-terrible-parent’ look plastered across his face. But seeing as how his wife left him last year and took their kids with him, he doesn’t really have the right to judge. If I was confident enough, I’d say that to him. But I’m not, so I just smile at him while he glares at me and pretend I don’t notice the look of disapproval.  
Every.  
Damn.  
Time.  
Dan must’ve noticed the look he gave me too, but he ignored him and led me over to the back of the shop where they kept all the breakfast stuff. There were loads of different cereals and Dan chatted mindlessly about Coco Pops and how he thinks chocolate flavoured cereals aren’t any good for you for breakfast because they’re not healthy enough but they, in his words, ‘just taste so fucking good.’  
Instead of buying one big box of one flavour, we decided to buy a few packets of different flavours. A packet of Hot Fudge Sundae, a packet of Cookies & Creme and a packet of Low-Fat Strawberry.  
“Low-Fat?” I raised an eyebrow and looked up at Dan. After all the calorific flavours he’d picked before, it just didn’t seem right to be choosing a low-fat option.  
He placed his free hand on his hip and stroked it slowly over the slight curve, “Watching my figure. A moment on the lips, a lifetime on the hips. That’s what my mum says.”  
That was the thing with Dan. I could never tell when he was joking and when he was being serious. I didn’t have a chance to think about it, nevermind ask him about it, before he whisked me away to the counter to pay for the sugary snacks he’d just picked out.  
I ignored the shopkeeper while he talked to Dan. He never made that kind of idle chit-chat with me. He used to before he found out about my sister, but so did everyone. They all started acting different around me before they found out what she’d done and started blaming my whole family for it.  
Dan didn’t seem to care much for the conversation though and, even if he did, he feigned disinterest for me, which was nice. It kind of felt like I was getting my own back on that shopkeeper after all this time. As Dan handed the money over, he smiled up at the man, “How’s your wife?”  
I turned to look at him so fast that my head almost snapped off my body. Was he trying to get me into more trouble than I already was in with everyone in this damn town? He was trying to make me look a fool, wasn’t he? God. And I dared. for a moment, to think he was different and that he actually gave a crap about me.  
I was about to just storm out of the shop and leave him to make his own stupid Pop Tarts when the colour drained from the old shopkeeper’s face. He pursed his lips and kept quiet as he counted out the change he owed Dan. And I realised that he wasn’t trying to make me look a fool. He was trying to embarrass the shopkeeper.  
For me?  
Dan was trying to embarrass the shopkeeper because of the dirty look he gave me as I walked in. He helped me when I was being bullied by the people in school and now he was helping me when I was being bullied outside of school.  
Maybe he actually did want to be my friend. Maybe he didn’t care that it was social suicide because he didn’t want anyone else.  
I didn’t want anyone else either.  
The warm, bubbly feeling in my stomach returned and as we both made our way out of the shop, walking so close next to each other that our shoulders were almost touching, I’d never had a stronger urge to just reach out and take his hand.


	7. Chapter 7

The walk back to Dan’s house didn’t take long and even though I walked at a leisurely pace, occasionally brushing my fingers against his, we managed to get there in just under fifteen minutes. He tried the door handle before taking his key from his bag and opening the door for me, pushing it aside and allowed me to walk in first.  
His house was impressive, much nice than mine and probably much more expensive too and his front door opened into a hallway adorned with photos in frames hung over the walls and a mirror right by the door. Under the mirror was a shelf where Dan dropped the key down.   
“You better take your shoes off.” Dan nodded, closing the door behind us both, “Otherwise my mum will absolutely flip when she gets home.” He kicked his own shoes off so forcefully that they banged against the wall.  
I took my shoes off too, but I slipped them off and placed them neatly next to his. That small OCD part of me was desperately trying to get me to rearrange Dan’s shoes too so they were in line with mine but I managed to tear myself away and follow after him as he walked into another room.  
The living room was just as elegant as the hallway. The floor was a beige carpet and the walls were painted an ivory colour, almost white, the same colour as the two sofas. A half empty mug was perched on a coaster on the glass coffee table and a bookcase was in the corner filled with all types of different books, from the classics like The Perks of Being a Wallflower, to the more modern books.  
But my favourite thing about the room had to be the windows. They were big and took up a lot of space on the wall and they backed out onto the garden. Not many houses had gardens anymore. There wasn’t really enough space due to the overpopulation. But Dan had a garden, like the rich people do. A big garden too, with flowers and a tree. A tree! His very own tree. Wow.  
“Do you like it?” He asked and that’s when I realised I’d been staring out of the window for quite a while now and we were supposed to be making Pop Tarts together.  
I quickly turned away and looked over at him, nodding, probably a little too enthusiastically, “Yeah, yeah. It’s great. I, uhh, I don’t have a garden.”  
Dan smiled at me, his teeth poking out of his lips slightly. “Cute.” He said simply and gestured with his head over his shoulder, “So, how about them Pop Tarts? I’ve kind of been looking forward to them like all day.” His smile was almost sheepish and he tucked his hands into his pockets before making his way out of the living room and back into the hallway.  
I followed after him almost instantly, not wanting to lose my way in this huge house of his. I didn’t even know what room the kitchen was in! Glancing over my shoulder one final time out of the window to see the beautiful garden, I made my way out of the living room and into the kitchen.  
The kitchen was just as posh and as minimalist as the living room. The same black and white colour scheme. It must be an absolute devil to keep clean. But Dan’s mum was clearly doing a very good job of it. The marble work surfaces gleamed in the light shining in through the windows.  
He almost skipped over to the toaster, taking the packets from the bag we’d been given in the shop. “Which first?”  
“Hot fudge sundae are my favourite.” I answered, following after him. My socks marked the tile floor slightly as I walked over to him, but the marks of condensation faded after a few seconds and I found myself feeling incredibly glad that I was actually wearing socks and didn’t have to just walk across the cold tile floor bare foot.  
“Hot fudge sundae it is.” He grinned, opening the packet and placing the two pastries in the toaster. They didn’t usually take very long to heat up, only a minute or so, so we just stood in silence for a while. Dan leaned against the counter, tapping his fingers against the marble and I stood next to him, wondering whether or not I should bring up the whole ‘what the hell is sex?’ thing.  
I couldn’t decide how to mention it. I could just hint at it and hope he just sort of... caught on? Or I could just come out and say it ‘Dan. What’s sex?’ I honestly had no idea and I knew that it’d be terribly award whatever way I decided to say it. His eyes were focused on the toaster, his fingers still tapping against the counter while he waited impatiently for them to heat up enough.   
“Dan?” I asked, deciding it’d be best to just ask him straight up instead of trying to sugar coat the question and tip toe around a sinking ship, “Earlier you-”  
The Pop Tarts almost jumped out of the toaster and Dan grinned, “They’re ready!” He sang excitedly, taking one from the toaster and placing it on the counter next to me before taking his own out.  
I just looked down at the pastry and frowned a little. ‘Couldn’t you have just waited another few seconds?!’ I mentally cursed it. I didn’t even want to eat it now. Stupid thing. ‘I was so close to finding out, you fool, would it have killed you to wait?’  
“What are you frowning for?” Dan questioned, his eyebrow quirked as he looked at me. He’d clearly noticed my look of disapproval as I stared down at that damn Pop Tart. My favourite flavour too! How could it betray me like this? “The counter’s clean” He chuckled, “My mum makes sure of it. Promise.”  
I thought that pretending I was worried about germs would be easier than explaining that I was angry at the Pop Tart so I just nodded and picked it up from the counter, “Okay. I trust you.”  
“Oh God, I’m actually excited for this.” Dan laughed, the intonation in his voice almost indicating that he was questioning himself, “I can’t believe I’m actually excited for a Pop Tart.”  
“They are pretty great though.” I answered, biting into my own Pop Tart. I’d already had some this morning, but you could never get sick of them. They were sugary and sweet and tasted like someone had literally plucked their dreams from the sky and wrapped them up in a tin foil packet ready to eat after just a few minutes in the toaster.  
Well, if dreams tasted like hot fudge sundae, of course.  
Brilliant.  
As soon as Dan bit into his Pop Tart, he groaned and tipped his head back, letting his eyes roll back slightly, “Oh my God why have I never tried this heavenly goodness before? Holy shit it is just downright wonderful. I think I could eat these for every meal. Every single meal.” He blabbered on for a while as he ate his Pop Tart, licking his fingers clean when he was done. “We onto Strawberry next? Although I don’t think anything could beat that delicious piece of sugary shit.” He grinned, but before I had chance to answer, he’d already opened the packet and popped the two pastries into the toaster.  
Well, now was my chance.  
If I didn’t ask him about sex now, his parents could come home and I’d have to wait til the next time we were alone. Or I’d chicken out and just stay quiet about it, ignoring the curiosity that was pretty much eating away at me.  
I took a deep breath and looked over at him, “Dan, earlier you said something and I wanted to ask you about it...” I started, but he interrupted my train of thought.  
“Oh, was that when I couldn’t remember the name of that old game? ‘Cause I remember it now.It’s Crash Bandicoot.” Dan nodded, smiling to himself, “We should play it together sometime, that’d be cool. I have it in my room, if you want?”  
“I, uhh, no, that’s not what I was talking about-” I tried again, but his voice overpowered my own mousey one as he continued to tell me about this retro game.  
“It’s so awesome.” He nodded, looking down at the toaster to see if the Pop Tarts were done yet, “But we’d have to use a PlayStation to play it and it’s so slow.” He groaned the last two words, but it wasn’t the same groan that he gave out when eating the Pop Tarts. It was more annoyed and agitated. “It’s worth it though. It’s a great game, I mean the graphics aren’t exactly brilliant, nothing compared to what we have now, but that doesn’t matter if it’s fun, right? We’ll play it later, I have it upstairs in my room and-”  
“Dan, what did you mean earlier when you said you weren’t asking to have sex with me?” I interrupted him and instantly felt guilty when his cheeks flushed a light red colour.  
Oh God, I felt awful. My stomach churned as I watched him rub the back of his neck awkwardly and keep his eyes fixed on the metallic toaster.   
“I didn’t mean it like that. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable.” His usual brash, loud voice had gone just as mousey as mine now and he let his eyes flicker up to meet mine, “It was just a joke. My friends back home used to talk about it all the time, I’m not used to controlling the stuff I say.” He let out a breathy laugh and dropped his arm to his side.  
“No, no. I’m not mad.” I shook my head quickly, “I kind of wish people here would talk about it a bit more.”  
“Well, that’s probably not the best idea.” He shrugged, “It’s practically illegal to do so.”  
A silence fell across the room again.  
He was looking down at his shoes and chewing his bottom lip.  
“What is it?” I asked.  
“What’s what?”  
“Sex.”  
He lifted his head and made eye contact with me again, a hint of a smirk tugging at his lips, “You don’t know what sex is?”  
Stupid question really. It was frowned upon to talk about it, even in schools. Sex Education was very watered down now and was more about your own body than exploring someone else’s. People weren’t encouraged to have sex and so the media decided not to show it anymore. They didn’t talk about it in magazines or anything. Not even those silly little girly advice column things that Fiona used to read. I remember finding one of her old ones when I was younger and reading it. My parents found it too but they burned it.  
Sex was completely on the down low. Taboo.  
Being too shy to say ‘Well, of course I don’t you fucking moron’, I just looked at him blankly and eventually he got the hint.  
He drummed his fingers on the side, “Basically when a man and a woman want to have sex, he like - oh God, I feel like I’m talking to a child.” He audibly groaned for the third time in the past ten minutes and closed his eyes, “Wellyouseeheputshisdickinhervaginaanditfeelsgoodandstuffandyeahthatsitreallyandthere’sotherstuffyoucandootoobutthat’sjustthebasicstuffohGod.” He said quickly as the Pop Tarts jumped up out of the toaster, giving him an excuse to turn away from the obviously far too awkward conversation.  
I blinked as he placed my strawberry one next to my hand on the counter and started to eat his own, “So...” My brow furrowed as I tried to comprehend what he just said, but it all just sounded like a blur of nothingness and babble.   
I think after a few bites of the Pop Tart he realised that I obviously wouldn’t have been able to understand and just sighed. “Close your eyes. Don’t look at me, it’s embarrassing.”  
So I did as I was told and closed my eyes while I listened to him explain to me what sex was. He explained it very clearly and slowly and went over a few things twice or three times to make sure I understood, possibly like people used to explain it to their children. But it was interesting. Apparently people used to have sex to show each other that they love each other and some used to have sex to make babies and some just did it because it was fun.  
I obediently kept my eyes closed while he explained the whole thing and just let the strawberry Pop Tart go cold on the counter.


	8. Chapter 8

By the time Dan’s mum arrived home from work, we’d finished the Pop Tarts, cleaned up the crumbs we’d left on the counter and made our way upstairs to his room. It wasn’t much different to my own. We both had the same blue walls and the white ceiling and we both had a bookcase and a television but Dan had a double bed and I only had a single.  
The sheets were a dark blue with stars and galaxies across them. I hadn’t known him very long but it just felt very.. Dan. It seemed as though everything he did suited him perfectly and I just really liked that about him. I think that’s what I liked the most.  
We’d played video games for a while in the afternoon and he showed me some of the classics, apologising over and over again for the awful graphics and slow response time of the controllers but they were fun anyway, especially Crash Bandicoot. I loved that one. But I liked Sonic too and Dan told me how much he loved that one. He showed me some other Sonic games on more recent consoles and he even showed me a little, plush version of Sonic the Hedgehog that he’d managed to find online somewhere. He said it was really old and that they didn’t even sell them anymore and if you managed to find one, they were ridiculously expensive so he was glad he managed to get one for a decent price.  
After a few hours of videos game, we both lay on his bed and staring up at the ceiling. I studied it like I do with my own ceiling every morning but nothing really stood out to me. There were no marks or cracks of imperfection or stains from blu tack like there was on my own ceiling. It was flawless, like it’d just been painted yesterday.  
“What time does your mum get home?” I asked, breaking the silence between the two of us. I regretted it almost instantly. We’d been silent for about fifteen minutes and I just enjoyed listening to the sound of his breathing and getting lost in my own thoughts. I was afraid that the question might disturb him and he might move from where he was laying ridiculously close to me. But he didn’t.  
“Sometime soon unless she’s working overtime. But she doesn’t usually work over on a Friday.” He stayed still, staring up at the ceiling too. His hand was dangerously close to mine. I could practically feel the heat radiating from his skin.  
We were silent again and it would’ve been awkward if it were with anyone else but with Dan, it was nice. Dan was the kind of person you could sit in silence with hours and feel like you’ve had the best conversation in the whole world. I’d never had a friend like him before. Before things kicked off with Fiona, my friends were all very dependant on each other. We couldn’t sit in silence without it being awkward.  
“Are you busy tonight?” It was his turn to break the silence this time. He shifted his position too so he was laying on his side, leaning on his elbow and propping his head up with his hand, “I usually go to this really cool place on Friday nights. Really cool. Kinda exclusive too but I reckon the people that go there would like you a lot.”  
My stomach was filled with butterflies, like it was when we left the shop earlier. He wanted me to see him, not just outside of school, but outside of his house too? He wanted to take me out somewhere? Even when I had friends before we rarely did things outside of the house.  
I smiled, trying my best not to grin like an idiot. “Really? Yeah, I’d love to! I mean… I’d have to know what time we were going and what time we’d be back ‘cause my mum will worry if I’m not home for ten.” My cheeks burned. “She treats me like a child.”  
“What happens if you’re not home for ten?”  
I shrugged, “Never not been home on time. Wouldn’t want to find out.” I decided not to mention the fact that my parents had completely disowned my sister for doing something she wasn’t supposed to. Well, there was a pretty big difference between being home a little later and doing what she did. I’m sure they wouldn’t disown me for being home later than ten.  
“What about if you tell them you’re staying over at mine?”  
I blinked, looking up at him, “You’d let me stay the night?”  
“Yeah.”  
“Here?”  
He chuckled and nodded, “Yeah.”  
I sat up to look over at him, “Seriously? You’d want me to stay with you? In your house?”  
“Of course I would, Phil.” He smiled, “Why wouldn’t I want you to stay? You’re fun to be around and you can help me with the English assignment tomorrow anyway.” He blushed. It was only the second time I’d ever seen Dan blush. He didn’t really get embarrassed easily so I felt that these moments were significant. “If you want to, of course. But I’d appreciate the help.”  
I nodded quickly. As long as it meant I got to spend more time with Dan, I didn’t mind what we did.It could range from sky diving to just sitting in silence, playing videos games and I’d still be the happiest person on Earth. “I’d love to help you. But I’m probably not as smart as you.”  
“Are you kidding?” Dan laughed, “I’m ridiculously dumb.”  
“You get straight As in like, all your classes.” I argued, quirking an eyebrow. It was true. I hadn’t known him long but as far as I could tell, he was a pretty smart guy.  
“I’m academically smart. But I lack common sense.” He shrugged, laying down on his back and staring up at the ceiling like he had done before, “I’ve done a lot of stupid stuff, Phil.”  
I joined him on the bed, resuming our previous position with our hands almost touching. The question slipped from my mouth before I had the chance to stop it, “Like what?”  
He chuckled, “I’ll show you tonight, okay?”  
“Will you really or is that just something you’re saying to get out of actually telling me?”  
“No, no. I promise I will.” He grinned, holding his little finger up in the air, “Pinky promise.”  
I furrowed my brow, “What’s a pinky promise?”  
“Listen,” He said quietly, his voice almost a whisper like he was afraid someone other than myself was going to hear what he was about to say, “Promise me you won’t tell anyone?”  
“I promise.” I smiled and held up my little finger like he had done, “I pinky promise.”  
He laughed and in an instant, linked his finger with mine. The urge to pull away was monumental. It felt strange to have someone’s finger linked with my own. It was kind of like holding hands but not quite. I just looked at him but he wasn’t looking back at me. He was staring at our hands and our entwined fingers. I liked it though. No matter how wrong I knew it was, I couldn’t stop myself from liking it. It just felt really nice. While our fingers were linked, Dan briefly explained that this was a pinky promise and people used to do it to symbolise how important the promise was and that they definitely couldn’t break it or something. They linked fingers because if one of them broke the promise, they’d lose their little finger.  
I couldn’t hear him that well. He was mumbling and didn’t even look at me while we talked, He didn’t take his eyes off our hands, kind of like he was in awe of the fact that we were actually touching.  
“Are you okay with this, Phil?” He asked quietly after a while and I nodded. I was more than okay with it. The contact was nice. I’d never had this before. I looked up at him and he tore his eyes away from our fingers to look back at me.  
After a short while, I felt his other fingers slip into the gaps between my own and we were holding hands. We were actually holding hands! It was like they did in the old movies. Our fingers were interlocked and he gave my hand a gentle squeeze. It was comforting and although it was unbelievably illegal and wrong, it felt absolutely perfect.  
I wanted to hold hands with Dan forever but a woman’s voice from downstairs tore us apart. “Are you home, sweetie?” She shouted.  
“Yeah, mum.” He called back to her, pulling his hand away from mine, brushing his fingertips against my own to prolong the contact, “Just upstairs with a friend. Did you have a good day at work?”


	9. Chapter 9

It’d already gone dark by the time Dan decided to leave the house with me. The butterflies hadn’t left my stomach since he asked me to go out of the house with him and my palms were sweating which would’ve been awful if we were still holding hands. Thankfully, he’d let go of mine a few hours ago just before his mum had walked into the room.  
He was talking at me about something but I wasn’t really concentrating, I was more worried about what his friends would think of me and if they’d be bothered that I was tagging along. If they were all as ridiculously cool as Dan, I’d look like such an outsider and just wouldn’t be welcome in their little group at all. Maybe Dan would stop talking to me too and I’d be alone again.   
After he’d been talking for a while and I’d been nodding along, I decided to ask. “Your friends won’t mind that I’m coming too will they? I mean, I bet they were expecting just you. It’d be a bit weird if I showed up too, wouldn’t it?” My voice was quiet but I made sure to looked up at him so he could hear me properly and tell that I was serious.  
He chuckled and looked over at me too, that grin plastered on his face again. “Phil, they’re gonna love you. Don’t be silly.’”  
“Well, maybe. But what if they don’t?” What if they knew about Fiona and told Dan? It’d be mortifying. If anyone was going to tell him, I definitely wanted it to be me and not one of his friends. My mind started to race and thoughts of them laughing at me behind my back filled my brain and I couldn’t get rid of them. This was the first time I’d ever really cared about the gossip people spread about me. My general feeling about it was that I should just let people talk because I couldn’t stop them spreading rumours but this was different. I didn’t want Dan to spread or hear rumours about me.  
“They will, trust me. Besides, they’re used to people tagging along.” He grinned, taking his eyes from me and focusing on where he was going. I opened my mouth to argue, but he silenced me with his own voice, “It’s just round this corner. Not too far.”  
I gave a small smile and followed after him like a puppy dog. It was going dark outside and there weren’t many people about anymore. We’d left Dan’s house at about half eight and we must’ve been walking for a good forty five minutes. I hoped that his mum would come and pick us up from where we were going at the end of the night. I didn’t want to walk back to Dan’s at God knows what time. It was kind of frightening and I’d never been to this part of town before. The walls were graffitied, fairly artistically actually, I was impressed. Sometimes there were a few phrases scrawled across the walls but it wasn’t just words, there were pictures and patterns and all sorts. A part of me wished we were in the light so I could see it properly and another part of me liked the mystery that the darkness provided. But the darkness was terrifying. Each time someone walked past I had the urge to reach out and grab Dan’s hand to try and feel safe again, like I felt earlier when he held me. But I couldn’t do that. Anyone could call the police if they saw us get too close to each other, never mind holding hands!  
He turned the corner sharply and we reached and alleyway. The light from the street lamps didn’t reach it so he had to take his phone from his pocket and use the screen to light our way. Even then, it was still too dark to see much further than a couple of feet in front of you. There were no signs of life down here and my heart was pounding in my chest.  
A particular piece of graffiti caught my eye. I could barely see it due to the lack of light but it was all in two colours, black and white. The picture was lifesize so the people featuring in it were around six foot tall. Two men, police officers to be precise were painted onto the wall. They were touching. Kissing. If anyone from the government knew about that, it’d be painted over in an instant.  
“Where are we going?” I asked, trying (and failing) to keep my voice from breaking out of fear. The last word cracked and made me sound like I was a 13 year old boy going through puberty again.  
“Don’t worry.” He assured me and even in the dim light I could see his teeth peek out from behind his lips as he grinned, “We’re just going to see some of my friends. Besides, we’re here now.”  
The words combined with the way he stopped suddenly in front of me made me jump and I wasn’t able to stop myself walking quick enough. I banged into him, my chest hitting his back and I practically dived away from him, “O-oh my God, I’m sorry!”  
“It’s okay, Phil.”  
“It’s not okay!” I insisted, “What if someone saw? Christ, they could have me arrested for that and that was a total accident! Oh my God, I can’t go to prison, it sounds terrifying.” I tried my best to keep quiet, but in the panic it was coming out all whiny and annoying. I didn’t know what the policy was on ‘accidental touchings’. Would I still be punished as harshly as if I’d touched him on purpose? Anyone else would’ve laughed at me in my panicked state and told me to grow up or something but Dan looked genuinely concerned. His brow was furrowed, creasing slightly and he looked at me and spoke softly.  
“Phil, really.” He turned away from me and turned to face the door in the wall. He knocked in a certain rhythm and then glanced over at me, “The people here don’t judge like everyone else does. The people here are sensible.”  
“They won’t report me for that if they saw?”  
He chuckled, “They won’t report you. They don’t report anyone.”  
A little window in the door opened and I could just see the eyes of the person the other side of it. Her eye makeup wasn’t heavy but she had very pretty brown eyes and the minimal amount of mascara she wore complimented them perfectly. She narrowed them when she saw the two of us and, in the lowest, most serious voice she could possibly muster, said the word, “Password?” Her eyebrows knitted together in an attempt to look stern but something about the way she looked told me she was joking.  
I looked over at Dan and he rolled his own brown eyes, “Carrie, don’t be a dick. Let me in.” His eyebrow was raised challengingly but the girl was having none of it.  
“You know you can’t come in without the password!” She argued but you could tell she was smiling by the way her eyes lit up. Her voice was much higher now and she actually sounded like she’d be a lot of fun to be around. It made me feel more at ease with the whole ‘meeting Dan’s friends’ situation, especially if they were all like this girl.  
“Carrie, you know who I am, just let me in.”  
“Sorry, I don’t know who you are, Da-” She stopped herself before saying his name and corrected herself, “I mean, uhh mate. What’s the password?”  
“You change the password every five minutes, I can’t even remember what it is.” He whined, stamping his foot like a 3 year old having a temper tantrum, “I can’t even remember what the last one was! Carrie, you obviously know who I am just let me in and stop embarrassing me.”  
“If you don’t know the password, you’re not allowed in, bye.” She closed the window in the door quickly before Dan could answer her back.  
He knocked on the door again, harder than before, “Carrie, I swear to God!” He laughed and the door opened suddenly. I was surprised he didn’t end up accidentally punching her when he was trying to knock on the door. But Dan had good reaction times and he was able to stop himself.  
“Alright, don’t get your knickers in a twist!” She smiled at him. She was a lot shorter than Dan but, my God, she was just as beautiful. Her hair was blonde and fell in mad curls over her shoulders. She was wearing a red and white spotted dress that tied around the back of her neck and I started to feel ridiculously underdressed stood next to her. She looked like she was going out to a dinner party or out on a date or something. Were all Dan’s friends going to be as beautiful as he is?  
She looked over at me and tilted her head to one side slightly, her eyes scanning me up and down, “Newbie?” She asked but it was clear she was talking to Dan rather than talking to me. It must’ve been totally obvious that I didn’t belong here.  
Dan nodded, “Yeah, he is. His name’s Phil. Phil Lester.” He stressed my last name and the girl, who Dan had called Carrie earlier, broke into a grin.  
“Lester! Phil Lester!” She almost sang, stepping aside to let the two of us inside, “Come on in, Phil Lester, it’s a pleasure to meet you. You can come in too Dan but I’m not as happy to see you.” She winked and stuck her tongue out at him.  
“Yeah, yeah.” He made his way in first and I followed after him closely, trying to ignore the way Carrie’s eyes followed me.  
The room he led me into was pretty dark, especially after Carrie had closed the door to the alleyway. There were a few lights on the wall but it kind of looked like a nightclub of some sorts. There was music playing but it wasn’t a track I recognised and the majority of the lights in the room were coloured. Near the back of the main room was a corridor that looked like it lead to a number of other little rooms. A few people were dotted about the main room here and there and it looked like they were talking to each other, just making general conversation like friends. A few others were going into rooms down the corridor. But I wasn’t paying much attention to them because practically in the middle of the floor, centre of attention, there was someone sat in a throne-like chair.


	10. Chapter 10

His legs looked too long for his body and he had one of the ridiculously long limbs hung over the arm of the chair. The jeans he was wearing had torn at the knees so his pale skin stood out against the black fabric. The red, checkered shirt was also torn in places and he wore it open with a grey t-shirt underneath it.  
He had his eyes on me too. We stood and stared at each other for a few minutes until he lifted his hand and adjusted his fringe before beckoning me over to him, a grin plastered on his face. It was nothing like Dan’s grin though. Dan’s grin was nice and Dan’s grin felt friendly. This was a smirk.  
“Go over to him then.” Dan leaned down to whisper quietly in my ear and my arms broke out in goosebumps as I felt his breath on my neck but I did as I was told, making my way over to the tall man in the middle of the room.  
He didn’t say much when I finally reached him. He just looked at me for a while, taking in every little detail, kind of like how I did when I first met Dan. He was studying me. His gaze shifted to Dan and he quirked an eyebrow.  
“For God’s sake, Chris.” Dan mumbled, clearly not phased by the intimidating man sat in front of us, “Do you have to frighten every new person we get here?”  
“It’s my job, honey.” The man smirked, fixing his fringe again. His voice was different to how I assumed it would be. It was more light. But he smiled sweetly at Dan, almost patronising him. It was only a few seconds before the girl who met us as the door skipped over and sat down on his lap. They were touching. They were actually touching and no one was looking or shouting and no one was phoning the police! Who were these people? What kind of damn place was I in? I tried not to show how shocked I was but I’m pretty sure my eyes involuntarily widened and I had to do everything in my power to stop my jaw hanging open.  
Evidently, it didn’t work and the tall man smirked at me again, “Catching flies there, mate?”   
Carried laughed but Dan furrowed his brow, “Leave him be, Chris. He’s never seen this kinda stuff before. He’s not used to it.”  
“Wait til you see what they do down the corridor.” He was looking at me again, “If this is shocking for you, you’ll probably faint. Especially if this one tries to get with you.” He nodded towards Dan.  
“I… get with me?” My voice was practically a whisper, but he obviously heard me because he smirked at me again.   
“Well, he’s not gonna know what you mean by that, is he?” Dan’s brow was still furrowed as he scolded chris, “You know, sometimes I think you forget that what we do isn’t exactly society’s idea of normal.”  
“Where’s the fun in normal?” Chris chuckled, keeping his eyes fixed on me while he spoke, “What do you think, Newbie?”  
I hoped that ‘Newbie’ wasn’t something they were going to start calling me now because I didn’t like it much. It made me feel like even more of an outsider than I already felt. All three were looking at me now, expecting an answer. My cheeks flushed and I said the first thing that came to my head, “Normalness leads to sadness.”  
It must’ve been the right thing to say as Chris broke into a grin - a proper grin this time, not just a smirk - and said, “I like you. Phil, right?”  
“Right.” I nodded and looked over at Dan. He was smiling at me too and my heart seemed to slow down. I was so terrified about making a good first impression and now that I’d made Chris happy, I felt like I could relax a little.  
Chris wiped his right hand on his torn jeans and held it out to me. Unsure of what to do, I mirrored him, holding my right hand out, palm outstretched. He chuckled, “Wow, you really don’t have a clue do you?” He smacked his palm against mine and gripped my hand, shaking it once.  
Up until about five hours ago, I’d had no real physical contact at all and now two people had touched my hand. Two! In the space of five hours! I didn’t know what to say to him so I just stayed quiet and shook his hand in return, assuming it was a greeting of some sorts. I had read about it actually. People used to shake hands when they first met people or when they were saying hello/goodbye in a polite manner.  
“Nothing like your sister.” He let go of my hand, wiping his own on his jeans again and I started to worry that my palms were sweaty again, “She knew everything about everything. Taught me quite a lot.”  
My sister?  
I looked at him, my lips pressed into a line but my eyes wide like before when I first saw him touch Carrie. What did he know about my sister? Had he told Dan anything?  
“Mm, I don’t like talking about you and her, can we change the subject?” Carrie muttered, burying her face in the crook of Chris’s neck.  
“That’s ‘cause you jealous of her, love.” He laughed, rubbing her back.  
“Fiona?” I asked, “Are you sure you know Fiona?” My eyes involuntarily fell upon Dan even though my question was directed at Chris. His eyes were fixed to the floor and he was refusing to look at me.  
“Well, of course.” He raised an eyebrow.  
“Fiona Lester?”  
“Everyone knows Fiona Lester. She’s infamous.” He nodded and Carrie chipped in with a little ‘it’s true’. Infamous? The Lesters were infamous. Perhaps that’s why Carrie had looked so happy to see me when Dan introduced me at the door.  
“Let’s go, Phil.” And before I could protest, Dan had linked his arm with my own and I’d lost my train of thought completely. I let him lead me away from the man with the ridiculously long limbs in the throne-like chair whose name escaped me right now because all I could think of was beautiful Dan and his damn addicting physical contact. He was like a drug. He ran his hand down my arm as he led me away, slipping his fingers between mine until we were holding hands properly again. In public! He was holding my hands in front of all these people!   
“Dan? What if... people see?” The words were all I could manage while my brain filled with cotton wool and all I could focus on was his slender fingers playing with my own.  
“Look around you, Phil. We’re all different here. Every single one of us.” He pulled me to a sitting position on a sofa near the edge of the room, “We’re all touching. Holding hands, hugging, kissing. The law is stupid, Phil.” He explained, keeping his voice low and soft, “People need other people. People need touch and people need love. You can’t deny someone of that.”  
“I-it’s the law.” I mumbled, looking up at him.  
“Fuck the law.” He frowned, “Fuck. It. The government don’t have a damn clue. They make decisions based on what they assume would be best. They don’t ask the people it actually affects.”  
There was a silence between the two of us and I just listened to the babble and the chatter from everyone else in the room, trying to comprehend what Dan was telling me. basically, every Friday night he met his friends here for a night of illegal physical contact. Kissing and touching, all illegally. If someone found out, every single person in the room would be arrested.  
And then I realised. Chris, the man in the throne, knew about Fiona. Carrie, the girl at the door, knew about Fiona. How many other people in the room knew about her? And what exactly did they know? I looked up at Dan, “What do you know about my sister?”  
He raised an eyebrow, “Sorry?”  
“My sister. What do you know about my sister, Fiona?”  
His cheeks flushed and he shrugged, “Not a lot, to tell you the truth. I just know what she got up to and why she’s in trouble.”  
“How do you know?” I asked.  
He just shook his head and smiled, “Phil, she used to come here all the time.”  
I shook my head, unable to process the information properly, “No, you must be wrong. We weren’t allowed in after ten. Ten was the latest. We had to be in before ten else we’d be in trouble with mum and dad.”  
He sighed and rubbed his forehead, “Phil, I don’t know how she got here, you’d have to ask her that. All I know is that she used to come here all the time. She was friends with Carrie but Chris flirted with both of them and Carrie was really jealous of her. That’s why she said she didn’t want to talk about her”  
“Did she..?” I asked, glanced over at where Chris was was, playing with the curls of Carrie’s hair, “With him? Is it him?”  
Dan shook his head, “No, not him. Someone else but not him.”  
I just nodded, “Good. I don’t think he’s good enough for Fiona anyway.” I kept my voice quiet out of fear that he’d hear me. Chris wasn’t an unattractive guy, not at all. But his bottom lip was bigger on one side than the other and his eyes were surrounded by dark circles and he had a little scar on his chin and his limbs were too long for his body and all these things made him imperfect and therefore, not good enough for Fiona. She deserved the best. She deserved someone like Dan.  
Dan shrugged, “He’s a pretty nice guy. Just a bit different than what you’re used to, that’s all.” He smiled and looked over at Chris too, “He set this whole place up after all. He’s like… I dunno. He’s a nice guy that’s all.”  
The butterflies jumped into my stomach again but it was different this time. I wasn’t excited or happy, I was jealous. Why did Dan admire Chris so much? He’d never looked at me in the way he was looking at Chris right now. His eyes were filled with true adoration, they almost sparkled when he talked about the abnormally lanky man. The twang of jealousy was moving from my stomach to my chest and it started to ache. I didn’t want to know what Dan thought about Chris.  
“But he does make money from it.” Dan leaned back in the sofa and looked back over at me.  
“What do you mean?” My brow furrowed but I got a sense of relief when he finally tore his eyes away from the chair in the middle of the room.  
“Well, sometimes you get business men in here and stuff, looking for comfort. You know, people who aren’t regulars. Sometimes they bring their other half and pay Chris to keep what they’re doing a secret or sometimes they pay Chris to find someone to do things with them.” He nodded, “It’s pretty clever really, I mean, he wouldn’t tell anyway but they don’t know that.”  
“Why does he get the money?”  
“‘Cause he set this whole thing up. He runs it all.”  
I nodded and stayed quiet for a little while, trying to understand why people would pay to come here and what they’d pay for. It was just a room where people met up and talked. I decided it’d be best to ask Dan. It might be embarrassing but he’d never laughed at me for any of my questions before. “What do people pay for?”  
Dan smiled a little, “Phil, just look around.”  
On closer inspection, the people in the room weren’t just talking. They were touching. Every single person in the room was having physical contact of some sorts. In the middle of the room, Carrie was still sat on Chris’s lap. There were a few people leaning against a bar, laughing and talking to each other but they were holding hands with someone or just touching someone’s arm. On other sofas, people were cuddled up to each other and one person was kissing the face of another. There were people dancing, holding each other close and people kissing each other and people holding hands as they disappeared into the separate rooms near the back of the room.  
“People come here for physical contact.” Dan explained, “It’s just something humans need, I mean, if we weren’t supposed to do it we wouldn’t be able to, right? People pay to be touche, to feel loved. People need love, Phil.” He sighed, “Even if it is from a stranger that you pay for.”  
I kept quiet, just watching him. He looked sad. His brow was creased and he was chewing a piece of skin on his lower lip while he spoke.  
“Have you paid for love, Dan?” I whispered.  
He shook his head, “No, Phil. But sometimes I wish I had.”   
I decided not to ask why in case he didn’t want to explain it to me. Instead, I reached over and took his hands, entwining our fingers like we’d done earlier.


End file.
